Mattdusa
by ForeverMATT
Summary: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?
1. PROLOGUE

**Title**: Mattdusa

**Summary**: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DN or anything referenced.

**Author's Notes:  
-**I don't think anyone's done this idea before. Correct me if I'm wrong.  
-Should be a 4 or 5 chapters when I'm done.  
-Rated for future chapters.  
-REVIEW!

...

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Glass was everywhere. A mirror had been shattered and its remnants appeared to be a mass of shimmery confetti on the floor. The way it reflected light was all but symbolic to the person responsible for the mess.

The vandalist stood with closed eyes and a bloodied fist; he panted heavily as he felt his frustration ebb away; his head throbbed at the suddenly loss of adrenaline and he let out a slow hiss, as if a pressure valve had been released.

Because there had been so much disdain he had to direct at his surroundings in order to displace his initially destructive intent.

He hated mirrors. More specifically, he hated who he was; he hated his reflection. He hated the very aspect of seeing himself because it reminded him of what other people might see... if they only looked a little harder.

He feared what they would think if they could only _see _past his simple looks and good grades and status as an orphan.

Still, he pushed the vile thoughts aside and leaned over the single-serving sink, turning the taps and running his wounded hands beneath the warm water that flowed; the sensation of warmth against his skin made him feel serene and, miraculously, the cuts that marred his knuckles began to heal. His cells regenerated at a fictional rate, and he watched the process with something akin to boredom.

When there was no evidence of an injury ever existing, he grabbed a nearby broom and swept the shards into a corner. Then, he decided to get ready for another '_normal_' day at Wammy's.

But getting ready, for this redhead, wasn't quite like as it was for everyone else.

Some residents at Wammy's would brush their teeth and comb their hair and wear nice clothes... but this particular occupant had to do a few things differently.

He stripped his clothes and turned to the shower; the taps were opened and he stepped beneath the spray of water. He was filled with instant bliss as the droplets crashed against his skin before sliding down.

Granted, he loved the water (more than he should) he couldn't stay in the bathroom for too long; he had a schedule to keep to. So, after a predetermined amount of time, he was decidedly finished; the water was turned off, and he stepped out.

Now, when he showered, there was no need for soap unless he was truly filthy... because it would dry out his skin and he might shed in a crude and snakelike manner, which is something he couldn't risk happening during class or around his peers.

And what's more, he didn't need to dry off with a towel like a normal person. He would dry his hair normally, but his body didn't collect or absorb water; the nearly invisible scales that littered his lithe stature and blended with his skin acted like a sort of plumage, making him water resistant and helping to regulate his body temperature.

He pulled on clothes like any other person. Boxers first. Then jeans. Then a long-sleeved striped shirt (the color of said shirt varied, depending on his mood; today it was red and black). Finally, he pulled on a fur-lined vest for added warmth.

Of course, the temperature was a comfortable 73 degrees Farenheit, but anything under 80 degrees gave him a chill.

Still, after dressing himself and slipping on his socks and shoes, one would think that this redheaded oddity was ready to go, but - not quite.

With a deep breath and a bit of mental berating, he added the last piece of his ensemble: something he couldn't possibly do without. More important than any fabric, he added goggles. With a silver frame and bright orange lenses, he slipped them on and adjusted the way the strap wound around his head.

Only when that odd eye apparel was perfectly in place could he consider merging with a crowd of normal people.

Because he wasn't normal. He was hardly human. His mother was mortal, but she was cursed. And his father was a God. -Of course, it wasn't something he could tell anyone, or they'd think he was crazy. He could never reveal that he was the unwanted and forgotten spawn of Medusa and Neptune.

...

* * *

**/I know I **_**should **_**be working on other fics, but the idea came to mind, and I couldn't pass it up! Basically, Matt's orphaned and living at Wammy's, but rather than the cliché fic of 'Matt meets Mello and they don't get along', I'm taking it to a new level. In this, Matt's obsession with water stems from his father being the God of Water, obviously. His desire for warmth, tendency to hiss, ability to shed his skin, as well as several other serpent-like quirks, are coming from the fact that his mother is Medusa. (I know she wasn't a snake, but bear with me on this; it's called FANFICTION for a reason.) And, the obviously, Matt has a new excuse for goggles! I love the idea, and I can't wait to introduce Mello and see how it all plays out. So... Review. Seriously. I need to know what people think of this!/**


	2. CHAPTER ONE

**Title**: Mattdusa

**Summary**: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DN or anything referenced.

**Author's Note: **I didn't proofread; I'll go back and edit this later, but bear with it for now.

...

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

Facing the world with an apathetic brand of determination, a stripe-clad student walked the halls, eyes constantly darting back and forth to look at his fellow orphans as he passed them. He kept his mouth shut and simply perused the halls, heading for the cafeteria where he would have breakfast. Nothing was abnormal about that... So he thought nothing of collecting his breakfast tray and sitting at a table, alone. He thought nothing of glaring at his food as if it had bitten him. And he thought nothing of students that soon crowded around him, all chattering obnoxiously amongst one another, seemingly unaware of his presence.

But that was fine with him; his aspiration was to be unnoticed; to blend in; to be neither grand nor bland. And that's just what he did.

People looked at him, and then looked away. He was, at first glance, nothing special. Just another boy with decent grades and an odd fashion statement.

And as the redhead's peers continued to noisily entertain themselves, he focused on the rhythm of a nearby clock as it ticked away, foretelling how soon classes would begin; he felt his pulse synch with the soothing sounds but forced disruption by getting up and tossing his untouched morsels into a bin. Then he grabbed a bottle of water and waited for the signal to move.

-When a bell rang, he jerked uneasily, lips pulling tight and eyes narrowing into slits behind orange barriers as he exited the cafeteria and fell in line with the traffic flow in the halls.

His apathy had been abandoned, replaced by anxiety, though he couldn't decide why. Granted, he detested crowds in general, he was usually pretty stoic. Still, he continued on his way, taking small, graceful strides and making his way to his first class.

Biology.

Upon entering, he was assaulted by the stench of formaldehyde. He was thankful to have brought the bottle of water because strong odors dried out his nose and throat; made him parched and irritable.

Taking a seat at his usual table, he uncapped his water and took a sip, ignoring the pleasurable sensation of the liquid spilling down his chin, leaving chilled tracks along his jawline on its way to his throat before collecting at the collar of his shirt and the lining of his vest.

An instructor stood at the front of the class and took attendance before making excited hand gestures and speaking about the lesson they were about to begin, but the odd redhead in the back paid no heed; instead, his attention was focused on the additional footsteps echoing in the distance. -No, he couldn't _hear_ them, per se, but he could _feel_ them. Small, pulsing waves travelled in diffused vibrations, and the redhead could sense at least two people looming just outside the class.

He was wildly alert, and a small part of him yearned to announce the arrival of visitors, but he slumped down further into his seat and clutched his water bottle, feeling the condensation against his eager palms.

-The instructor must have said something important that the oblivious redhead had ignored because the elderly man suddenly raised his voice, seemingly irate as he addressed his pupil. "Matt! What is wrong with you? I swear, you pay less and less attention with each passing day. What am I doing wrong? Am I boring you? This is important! If you would just try -"

And the redhead, known as Matt, would tolerate no more. His grip on the bottle tightened, not unlike a constrictor. Then, he interrupted by abruptly getting up and allowing his chair to screech against the linoleum tiles beneath; finally, he let out a low, barely audible hiss of: "Sir, someone's at the door."

Just then, as if on cue, the door opened up and two people walked in.

The first person was familiar enough, with his messy black hair, pale skin, dark eyes, and poor posture. That, the redhead noted, was L, whom was famed for his dedication to educating those who were unfortunate enough to be without kin.

The second person... was a stranger. Young, blonde, and with a dangerous scowl plastered on his face; he looked menacing seemingly without trying.

"This is Mello," L stated bluntly, looking at the instructor with about as much enthusiasm as the students usually did: bar none. "Mello has been plagued with some unfortunate events, but he's a smart lad and should fit in well with the children, I'm sure."

The instructor put on a fake smile and held out a hand to the blonde, offering a handshake.

'Mello' scoffed and turned away, having no interest in his elders.

L's lips appeared to twitch, hinting at amusement but fading too quickly for 'normal' students to register it. "Mello will do fine, I'm sure. He's fifteen; likes chocolate and competition; hates people who waste his time with trivial matters; and... he'll be rooming with Matt."

Those words hit the redhead's ears and he fell back into his seat, eyes wide and mouth agape. He'd never had roommate before, and the very prospect of sharing a room made him wary.

He expected himself to shed his skin within a week; he didn't like the idea of sharing his own personal bathroom (complete with a rather large and luxurious shower stall); and he preferred to be secluded.

Too quickly, things went from simple and boring if not slightly annoying, to complicated and worrisome.

And that apprehension was only enhanced when the blonde walked over and took a seat next to Matt, not sparing him so much as a glance as he boldly declared: "Alright, roomie, you're going to show me to all my classes, be my lab partner, and let me-"

Hearing the domineering voice, Matt flinched and let out a soft hiss. He glared ineffectively at the intruder before murmuring: "No. I-I do things alone. I don't help people, and I don't need a partner."

If the blonde found absurdity in the redhead's nature, he didn't show it. Instead, he grabbed a text book from a nearby table and slammed it onto the desk he and the redhead shared. "Open it," he said simply.

Matt was at a loss for words. He was angry at being told what to do, but he was also shocked... because no one, apart from teachers and L, had ever tried to force structure on him.

"Seriously, open it. I don't know what lesson we're on, and I don't want to fall behind in my studies."

Wordlessly, Matt obeyed, opening the book to the beginning of the current lesson before withdrawing his hand and scooting his chair as far away from the blonde as possible.

Meanwhile, L took his leave and the instructor resumed the lesson. And soon it was time for lab partners to collect their supplies and cadaver for dissection.

Everyone did as told, grabbing pre-packed kits of pins and scalpels before grabbing a cold, dead frog and setting up their lab stations.

Of course, Matt tried desperately not to be reminded of the fact that his solitude was at stake... and his new partner wasn't helping.

"Hey," said the blonde casually, grabbing a scalpel and pressing it into the skin and muscle around the frog's sternum. "What are you in for?"

Matt said nothing; instead, he simply grabbed a pin and used it to tack the frog's body in place to make their work easier. He was determined to avoid conversations; he wasn't much for small talk or... any sort of normal social behavior aside from greetings, closures, and dining manners.

But Mello pressed again. "My folks died in a fire, but it doesn't bother me. What about yours?"

The redhead's hand shook slightly as he tried to put in another pin. "Mello, that's not an appropriate subject to-" he began, but was eagerly cut off by the ambitious blonde.

"I know, but you're morally obligated to tell me since I've already told you about myself."

Matt visibly tensed; his breathing slowed and his head felt heavy. He was fatigued and decided that stress was the cause. So, he did the only sensible thing he could think of. He dropped the pins onto the lab table and haughtily turned away from Mello before announcing, louder than necessary: "I'm going to the nurse's office. Not feeling well." And then he simply walked over to the door and made a feverish exit.

Because he felt sick, and he was certain it was the blonde's fault. He preferred to be alone; he needed the solitude; he needed the little privacy Wammy's House had to offer, lest his secret be exposed and he be shunned from the one place he had a chance at thriving.

...

* * *

**/Review./**


	3. CHAPTER TWO

**Title**: Mattdusa

**Summary**: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DN or anything referenced.

**Author's Note: **I'll have to edit this later, but not right now. So, enjoy.

...

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

It had been such a trifling week, but this particular day seemed to be the icing on the cake. As if the worry that came with shedding his skin wasn't bad enough, now he would have to be careful in regards to hiding his oddities.

In that aspect, he was ill at ease. Feeling threatened by the blonde intruder, Matt just had to get away... but there was no escape. He'd lied about going to the nurse's office and instead scurried to his bedroom (which he'd soon be forced to share) and then to the adjourning bathroom. Then, not even bothering to remove his clothes, he entered the shower, turned the water taps, and collapsed in the stall, letting the water wash over him, soaking his clothes and caressing his silken skin.

He breathed in a slow, rhythmic tandem, collecting his thoughts and trying not to think of the way his mosaic flesh began to itch: a sure sign that his skin would molt dreadfully soon.

Still, he forced himself not to scratch the irritated patches beneath his damp sleeves, lest the dead skin peel away and the process become a premature mess of flakes, scales, and skin cells, all decaying and regenerating with different speeds of progression.

He did his best to focus on the raining droplets because their presence usually brought him a sense of serenity, but of course, the wetness that soothed his anxiety would only serve as a temporary solution. So, he closed his orange-coated eyes (the goggle lenses acted as an artificial Nictitating Membrane), intending to enjoy the comfort that came from such a simple thing... and since his intent was to only rest for a moment or two, he was surprised to find himself aroused from slumber by the feel of hands on his shoulders, shaking him like a ragdoll.

His eyelids drew up and his awareness became focused on his assailant faster than any Inland Taipan or a Saw Scaled Viper could strike. He hissed in a show of warning before swatting at his foe, fingers wrapping around a pale column he quickly identified as a neck. He squeezed tightly, constricting the windpipe with a deadly precision; he stopped and retracted all malice the moment he realized that the person hovering above him was Mello, his new roommate.

In a meager display of anger, Mello's hand folded into a fist and landed a devastating blow to the redhead's bony chest, ensuring pain."Dafuq, roomie?!" Mello vocalized his frustration, allowing one hand to sooth his own throat while the other grappled at the wet collared shirt of the teen beneath him. "You passed out in the fuckin' shower. I helped you out of the bathroom and into bed, and you respond by strangling me? Fuck you too." He huffed, annoyed, releasing the redhead with an aggressive shove and fighting the urge to hit him again.

Matt grit his teeth and took unnaturally slow breaths, exhaling through his nostrils and forcing himself calm. "I'm... sorry?" Matt ground out, body tense and mind on edge, but he propped himself against a pillow and frowned upon noticing just how wet he was; how his clothes stuck to his scaly skin and how the darkened denim of his pants creased against him in all the wrong ways. And, through all the discomfort, the temperature is what bothered him most; there was a draft, and he voiced his concern with simple words. "I'm cold." He gave way to a slight shiver, almost as an afterthought as he childishly wiggled his way beneath a damp set of blankets.

"Fuck, you're so damn weird. Did your parents drop you on your head or something? Maybe you choked on your umbilical cord on the way out? -I thought you'd at least have half a brain and be interesting to talk to, but apparently, I've mistaken."

"Yeah... you have... mistaken. I don't like people, and I'm cold. So leave."

The two had a stare down of sorts with nothing but distance and orange lenses between them. The silence was growing increasingly more uncomfortable until the blonde sat next to the redhead, not caring that his own clothes were rather absorbent. "So, my name's Mello, but you should know that by now. So, am I just going to call you _'Roomie'_ until we get out of here or are you going to tell me your name? Then again, I could give you a nickname. Like..." he paused, looking the redhead over before slyly rattling off plausible names: "I could call you Fred. Or George. Or Ron. Or Percy. Or-"

The redhead shrugged half heartedly and pulled the blankets tighter around him before responding: "I'm not a Weasley from the Harry Potter novel and film franchise. I'm _Matt_," he said, voice soft and breath labored as he curled up and tried to get warmer; the chill was affecting him negatively, making him lethargic and slowing his thought process.

Mello, unaware of the redhead's strife, smirked at the hollow victory, smug at having coaxed an answer from the weirdo he'd be rooming with. "You cold?" he asked rhetorically, noting the blanketed form as it racked in shivers; he got up and approached a small heater in the corner. He turned it on and adjusted the settings before observing his surroundings. "The room is small," he noted with a bored tone, suddenly losing interest in bothering the redhead.

Cautiously, Matt tore himself from the blankets and got up, he sluggishly slinked over to the heater and delighted in the warmth it provided. "Not small, just cozy," he defended, voice soft and eyes downcast.

"Well, what am I doing with my stuff? I've got clothes and shit that need to be put away soon."

Matt sighed and allowed his hands to draw nearer to the heater, stopping and hovering only a few short inches from the reddening grates. "Cl-Closet is mine. You can have the drawers and armoire."

Mello's hair bobbed when he nodded in approval, though he continued to survey the small area. "What about my books?"

"Shelf," said Matt casually. "I only have a few books, so there should be plenty of room for however many books you have."

Another nod. And another question. "There's only one bed, so where do I-?"

"Take the bed," this reply was snappier than the responses prior, and Mello couldn't help thinking that he was getting under the redhead's skin.

"Okay, I'll take the bed after dry blankets are on it, but where will _you_ sleep, dumbass?"

"Don't worry about it."

After that, silence befell the duo. And all was fine until Mello decided to curb his boredom with the intent on getting to know the redhead a little better. "So, Matt... tell me how you lost your folks."

"I didn't," Matt spat bitterly, putting more venom into the two simple words than he intended. His eyes narrowed and he glared pointedly at the nosy blonde.

"C'mon, mine died in a fire less than a week ago, and I'm okay with it. You've been here a while, so there's no way you're still bothered by-"

"You don't get to choose when, what method, and for how long I grieve," Matt hissed, whipping his head around so that he was no longer looking at the blonde. It was confounding; normally he could control his emotions; normally he was able to be apathetic and uncaring (if not a little condescending and spiteful), but... something about Mello got under his skin and made him yearn to retaliate.

More silence blanketed them, but again, Mello was there to ruin it. "Are you going to be like this the whole time I stay here? Boring, unsociable, weird?"

Matt didn't say anything. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused on the warmth of the heater; he focused on deep, calm breaths; he focused on the distant scuttling of a spider that lurked along the floor.

...

It had been four days since Mello's arrival, and things between him and Matt cooled down. They weren't exactly friends, but they were practicing tolerance. Their classes were done for the day, and both were content to sit in the room they shared; Matt sat on the floor with his back against the wall, bottle of water at hand and sweat coating his body in an unhealthy sheen, for he'd been sitting inches away from that electric heater for hours without moving; Mello, on the other hand, occupied the bed, legs crossed and books spread around in disarray as he tended his studies.

"You okay, Roomie?" asked Mello as he turned a page, preparing to get a head start on the following lesson.

Matt said nothing, eyes closing and head falling forward; his body went limp, barely held upright by his slanted posture that allowed him to lean against the wall.

"Roomie, talk to me," Mello said, growing bored and marking his page before closing his book. He sat up straighter and stretched his muscles and joints languidly. Then he looked towards the redhead and frowned. "Roomie? Matt? Hey!" He clambered off the bed and over to the redhead, kneeling beside him and giving a harsh glare. "What's wrong with you?"

It didn't take a genius to feel the excess heat radiating between Matt and the heater, so Mello pressed a hand to the redhead's flushed cheek, feeling the hot, hot burning beneath the skin. He retracted his hand with a sound of annoyance before turning the heater off.

"Seriously, Matt, you're a weirdo, but something's wrong." He paused, placing each hand on Matt's shoulders, applying pressure and trying to stir a reaction from him... but no reaction came. "Should I take you to the nurse?"

There was still no response.

Mello groaned in frustration and once again pressed a hand to the redhead's face. "Matt..." This time, however, when he pulled his hand away, he noticed that his palm was met with resistance; a strange sensation akin to suctioning was daring his skin to stay in contact with Matt's. "Fuckin' weirdo; even your skin's weird," he spat, but there as more concern than anger in his tone. "Your skin feels all... leathery," he grimaced, trying again to pull his hand back, only to gawk as a thin layer of heated flesh seemed to loosen and stretch like silicon. "Fuck!" he was nervous and confused. He continued to pull his hand, but then the leathery skin started to tear.

Panic was evident.

Unable to control his impulse after his hand was no longer attached to the sticky flesh, Mello found his finger tips plucking at his unconscious roommate's cheeks; the discolored flesh peeled back and revealed a fresh layer beneath.

Like pulling dead skin off a sunburnt beach goer.

Except, Matt wasn't a beach goer; Matt never even went outside, thus it was peculiar.

"What the hell is this?" Mello murmured, now having a small pile of flaking skin and scales sitting beside him. He took a deep breath and got up, grabbing hold of Matt's lithe frame and helping him onto the bed. "...whatever's wrong with you, Roomie, you'd better not be contagious."

...

When Matt awoke, he found himself alone in his room. He sat up in bed and shivered at his lack of clothes. He vaguely wondered why he was nude, but he'd woken up in stranger predicaments before, so he thought little of it.

He carefully got out of bed, wincing as he felt his old flesh stick to the bedding beneath him. Still, he forced himself up and felt the excess cells release their hold on him. Then he set to work at collecting his skins -part of it was on the bed; some of it was on the floor... pieces of him were everywhere. Once he gathered up the leathery detriment, he tossed it precariously into a waste bin before going over to the closet and grabbing out a fresh set of clothes. Once he'd grabbed a red and yellow striped shirt and a pair of jeans, he wandered into the bathroom.

He set his clothes aside and looked into the mirror, glaring at the sight that greeted him.

Because his new skin... was imperfect. It was not a fresh new canvas of flesh; it was scratched in scabbed in places -plagued with festering sores; he was going to have scars. Of course, he decided that he must've had a hard time molting, which had happened a time or two, so he shrugged it off.

Turning away from the mirror, he stumbled to the shower, needing the bliss that the water would give. He fumbled to start the blast of water, but... before he could do so, a voice reached his ears.

A voice that was all too familiar.

A voice he'd forgotten... until now.

And that voice carried a poisonous word.

And that word... was a name.

"_Mail_..."

The redhead froze on the spot, chills running down his spine and fear gripping at his chest. He knew that voice. He knew that sickeningly sweet lilt. And he called her bluff, turning to face the female who was even more of a monster than he was.

As expected, a beautiful face and perfectly proportioned body greeted him, showing off all the glory of a Greek Goddess. And that Goddess called to him again, her tone taunting and teasing. "Mail, surely you know... how long I've waited for this day..."

Hearing that voice and seeing that face, he was all but paralyzed. He glared at the immortal woman with all the hate he could muster, and he hissed her name with all the snakelike charm his heritage had cursed into his care. "_Athena_..."

"Mail"

"Athena."

"Mail. Mail. Mail."

"Athena. Athena. Athena."

"Mail. Neglected spawn of Neptune... and Medusa."

"Athena. Royal bitch."

"Hold your tongue, boy! Before I cut it out!"

"You're just pissed because you and my mother had a fight over vanity! Well, I have nothing to do with that, but if you don't leave... I'll-" He didn't finish his sentence; he didn't need to. He had Athena's full attention as he morosely guided a hand to the frame of his goggles and tore them off; the full intensity of his algae-colored eyes was released for the first time since he could remember.

But Athena was more than beauty and deceit; she was also full of wit. She was the Goddess of War, and she wasn't about to back down from a child. She gracefully put her best foot forward and sneered: "That's right, Mail. Just remember whose pulling the strings here. Remember -Oh, and didn't you have a little roommate? I bet you're wondering... where he's gone off to. But... what you should be wondering... is if you can find him before it's too late. I'll give you three clues to follow. If you can find him in ten minutes or less, he'll be fine and I'll leave you alone, but if you fail to find him... history repeats itself."

Matt kept his eyes closed tight, refusing to even peek. He didn't speak to either accept or decline the offer. He simply tried to keep calm and focus on the vibrations in the air and at his feet. Every shift of dust; every breath and distant line of footsteps; everything... all let out small pulses that carried data to the redhead who feared his curse of sight.

But Athena wouldn't allow him peace of mind with his thoughts; so she taunted him. "Mail, find him. Save him. Or prepare to take your mother's past as your future. -Your clues are...-"

...

* * *

**/*gasp* Confusion and cliffhangers abound! Two or three more chapters and this will be complete. -So, motivate me, if you will. Review./**


	4. CHAPTER THREE

**Title**: Mattdusa

**Summary**: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DN or anything referenced.

**REPLY TO ANON (GUEST) REVIEWER:** I have access to the internet, text books, and good friends who are well-versed on the subject; plus, I'm not a complete idiot and I took a class on Literature and Mythology a few years back. -Aside from that, you fail to realize that if I wanna pair Neptune with Medusa and later bring in Athena, I will. This is called FANFICTION for a reason. If you like what I'm doing, then tell me via review, but if you're gonna pick at it instead, then don't bother reading. Seriously. I know people who have turned suicidal from a bad review on Fanfiction, so think before you post. I can take a reasonable critique, but that wasn't even a critique. It's: "I think you fucked up, dumbass." Yeah. So please, let me write what I'm gonna write, and next time, say something constructive. Thank you.

**Author's Note: **I wanna thank my lovely readers for their time and support. Enjoy what I have to offer and review if you like what I'm doing.

**Also, CV! **I'm trying quicker updates for you, MY Miel!

...

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

His face was void of goggles and his ears were filled with Athena's jeers as she rattled off the three clues that would be crucial to finding his short-term roommate. "The avian prince. The prose of wisdom. And the shako of chastity." With a wave of her hand, a translucent image of each item was projected and the redhead found the courage to open his accursed eyes to view them.

_The avian prince. _It was an owl, large and white with piercing eyes and hideous talons; it flocked its wings and tucked its head for preening.  
_The prose of wisdom. _It was a book, larger than life with a phenomenal glow about it; its pages spanned, revealing glyphs before closing loudly.  
_The shako of chastity. _It was a cylindrical piece of headgear with a metal plate in front, a short visor, and a plume; a crest was embossed with elegant precision and the image rotated as if on a turntable.

"An owl, a book, and a helmet?" Matt sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, not entirely used to the assault from artificial light. "Why do I feel like this is another Harry Potter reference? The owl almost looks like Hedwig. And the helmet, for all I know, might belong to Nearly Headless Nick."

Athena's eyes narrowed and lightning seemed to spontaneously strike behind her, illuminating her silhouette like a black-figured amphora; a long staff appeared and she clutched it eagerly; armor generated from thin air and coated her in gold. She truly looked the part of the virginal Goddess of War. "Time is running out, Mail: bastardic offspring of Medusa and Neptune. Your future, as well as your friend's... is in grave peril."

The redhead buried his hands in his hair and tried to piece together the clues without conjuring up anything relating to Hogwarts, but the task proved difficult. "Is Mello at least close enough for me to find him in time?" he asked aloud, heart rate increasing and body stiffening as he grew more and more ill at ease.

To this Athena gave no answer; she simply looked at him with a sly grin. Still, she repeated: "The avian prince..." And the owl vanished. "The prose of wisdom." The book was lost. "And the shako of chastity." And the helmet dematerialized. An ominous mist formed around her body and as it cleared, it took her with it. Piece by piece, she was fading until only her malicious cackle remained, disembodied.

-That cackle, as menacing and foreboding as it was, seemed to echo in the redhead's ears even after the Goddess had departed. He raced from the room in search of the his blonde roommate, mentally trying to figure out the clues.

He was a genius, surely he could do this much. He just had to think of it like a _puzzle_.

Unfortunately, the redhead knew only one person who excelled in puzzles, and without a second thought, he set out in search of that person.

...

* * *

**/Short, I know, but I've written shorter before, so I'm not too unhappy with the length. -I'll try to have a relatively speedy update for this and Canine Venality soon enough. Thank you. Review!/**


	5. CHAPTER FOUR

**Title**: Mattdusa

**Summary**: Shunned by the Supernatural, Matt lives in a world of Humans... but how long can he pretend to fit in? How long until his secret is discovered? And, most importantly, how is he going to hide his true colors from his new roommate?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own DN or anything referenced.

**Author's Note: **Eh, this was gonna be the last chapter, but... it looks like there will be one or two before this fic is done, so... uh... *headdesk* I guess all I can say is: Stay Tuned. (And be patient, please.) -I'm really trying to get this and Canine Venality done. Then, for those who follow, I'm back to LoveBytes. At least, that's my goal. -READ and REVIEW.

...

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Finding the puzzle-solving genius was as simple as taking a leisurely stroll to the playroom, though the quick pace utilized was anything but leisurely. Matt located a pale boy with a mouse-like stature and doe eyes; the boy had his fingers all over a rubix cube. Taking quick, shallow breaths to compensate the for the over-exertion, Matt knelt next to the albino and spoke, desperate to solve the riddle before any real damage was done. "Near! Whatever you do, don't look at me! Close your eyes if you must, but don't look!" He placed a hand atop the white mop of hair to ensure that stony gazes were not exchanged. "I need your help. _-The avian prince, the prose of wisdom, and the shako of chastity_ -what do they mean? What do they have in common? If you put the three clues together, can you surmise a location? Surely you-"

"The basement," Near simply said.

"...what?"

"The basement," Near repeated before explaining: "As long as you're not making a Harry Potter reference, it's the only answer. Owls are birds of prey, or more appropriately: raptors. They are also nocturnal, have keen senses but dulled hearing. Using those menial facts, one would immediately pick out a dim location with some sort of sound barrier, and maybe a few mice. Very simple, really. As for the prose of wisdom, well... that can refer to knowledge in general, in which case I'd suggest library, but it is far too obvious. So, the logical choice would be to look at it as a secondary solution, turning the primary means of reason into _memories_. So, prose of wisdom refers to memories, and -where do people often store old mementos?- Closets, attics, or basements. Finally, the shako of chastity...-"

Before Near could finish his explanation, Matt gave a slight shove and got to his feet, running out the door with a quick shout of: "Thanks, gotta go!"

He hurried to the large metal door and pried it open; he raced down the steep staircase and his pupils dilated under the dim lighting. As he descended, his surroundings grew dimmer and dimmer still. The pulsing vibrations through the relatively calm darkness sent a shiver down his spine and caused him to hiss, tasting his own anxiety.

Leaving the stairs and stepping onto the cement landing, he felt blindly for a light switch, finding none. So he called out to the one for whom he searched. A drawn out _'Melloooo'_ resounded throughout the hollow vicinity. Using his own voice's playback as a sort of sonar for echo-location, he mapped out the majority of his surroundings before narrowing his eyes and stepping out into the open, toward what he hoped would be his target. "Mello, are you alright? Say someth-" his words fell short as the basement became illuminated by a disembodied glow that started out as naught but a faint candle light but grew to match the intensity of the sun.

Matt both basked in the heat and shied away from the light; his retinas burned and he longed for the calming sensation of water. Thankfully, as quickly as it had come, the light was gone, replaced by a more normal, artificial light cast by a flickering bulb overhead. Beneath the rays of said light was a familiar blonde, eyes wide and unseeing and face contorted as if horrified.

"Mello!" Matt shouted, lurching toward his roommate in an attempt to void the stress. "Mello, I'm here. I'm sorry it took so long. Mello, I-" he paused, realizing that Mello was not only failing to respond to him, but he was also petrified. Closing the distance, Matt placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder, feeling hard stone in place of what should have been warm flesh.

But his roommate remained statuesque and unresponsive.

Matt sunk to his knees and bowed his head, unable to fathom what the entirety of the situation meant.

Why had Athena suddenly reared against him for long lost vengeance on the mother he never knew?

Why did Mello have to play a part in this sick little game of mystics?

And why did everything seem like it was falling apart?

The redhead's eyes became moist and his voice cracked as he uttered: "Mello, I tried." He gave a dry heave before continuing. "I really did try. I th-thought for sure I'd found you within' the ten minute time frame. I thought-"

"You thought good timing would save your friend." Athena's own voice supplied for him before she emerged from the shadows. The dim lighting reflected magnificently off her armor as she approached. "Forgotten spawn, you know nothing of ethics. Your mother-"

"My mother's faults have nothing to do with me!" Matt screeched, eyes turning and locking with hers and teeth baring to their fullest extent. Anger coveted confusion and loss as the fresh scales on his skin grew darker, becoming more prominent; his eyes sunk in and the color changed from anti-freeze green to sunset orange, mocking the color the lenses that no longer rested on his face; lastly, the bones in his jaw snapped and re-jointed before his own teeth grew pointed from his gums, reshaping themselves into tight-knit needles that made his mouth bleed. Blood splattered from his mouth as he hissed in pain.

He whipped his head around and even more crimson was spluttered.

Athena watched with muted disgust; her face twisted in disapproval. "Mail: spawn of-"

Her berating was met with enforced rage as Matt's lean body contacted hers at an incredible speed. His jaws spanned wider than he knew possible, tongue flicking out before drawing back as his mutated teeth fell upon her armored shoulder.

The goddess easily dislodged his teeth and dropped him to the floor in a pathetic, teenage heap. "Monster child," she accused. "Your father deserved better. And not even your mother wanted-"

Again she was cut off as Matt's sense of humanity and control slipped further away. He hissed angrily and struck out at her, but his attack was ineffective. Upon realizing this, he altered tactics, simply wrapping his arms around his foe's waist and applying pressure, constricting.

Athena faltered but quickly composed herself. She materialized a staff and prepared for a physical encounter. She raised her weapon of choice, intending to strike the horrid thing attached, but the arrival of another caught her attention.

"Athena, please refrain from picking on the residents of Wammy's. Green is not your color, and Envy is not your domain."

Athena was distracted and Matt drew himself away from her; his hands wiped at his deformed jaw and blood coated his fingers. He was stricken with horror and did his best to focus on that sensation, lest he lock eyes with the new arrival and his curse forever mold them into a statue.

The intruder cleared his throat and shuffled closer. "Athena, as strong and lovely as ever. Surely you are not upset with a child, let alone two."

Athena tightened the grip on her staff and opened her mouth, as if to argue, but her aggression dissipated with the next thing she heard.

"Athena -or shall I call you A? - You were here in the beginning. You've been in this situation before. Cast aside, left wondering what your purpose is and if you'll ever fit in. Wandering aimlessly through life and trying to find the answers to questions you're not even sure of. -Well, now it's Mail's turn. You've found your domain. You've made peace with it. Now leave him be."

At this, Athena's will to fight faded all the more. The angelic glow faded and her armor and weapon vanished. The blonde child ceased to be frozen and fell to the floor, unconscious, as if sleeping.

The goddess sighed dramatically before confessing: "L, I'm sorry. But I had a legitimate reason this time."

And L, the person who had intervened, simply shook his head and slipped a hand into his pocket. "A, that's what you say every year. -You realize that, don't you? Not a year goes by when you don't come back to torment little Mail. It's not very nice of you, now is it? Your behavior is getting worse, and I won't tolerate it."

To that, Athena had nothing to say; she merely turned away with an agitated scoff.

The raven haired man withdrew his hand from his pocket, bringing a pair of goggles with it; he tossed them in the redhead's direction and instructed: "put them on, Mail. No need to get me or Mello turned to stone."

Quickly, Matt complied before turning his own wide-eyed gaze to L. He worriedly gestured to his unconscious roommate, then to Athena, and finally to his own mutated mandible.

L chuckled humorlessly. "Matt, Mello will be fine in a day or so. Athena's power over him was temporary because you beat her riddle. Had you failed, it could have been permanent, but we'll worry about that later."

Again, Matt gestured toward his jaw.

And L, as expected, offered an answer. "Puberty." He paused, long enough to gauge a reaction that didn't come. "It's different for everybody. Some people get hair in weird places.; some people have strained vocal cords. But you, Mail, your puberty is a bit different. Because you're-"

"The wretched offspring of Neptune and Med-" Athena rudely cut in, only to be silenced by a surprisingly vicious glare from L before he continued his focus on Matt.

"As I was saying. Because you're a child of elements that are foreign to this earth, it's hard to define the changes you're going through. But... just to be safe, I think it's finally time you and I had _the talk._"

...

Athena had grudgingly put Mello to bed, and L stood facing Matt, knowing that there was a lot of explaining that had to be done. And it started with: "Mail D. Jeevas, there are things in this world that even you cannot imagine."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, I'm not who you think I am. No one is, really."

"Come again?"

"You're not the only one here who is a descendant of a sainthood. In fact, Wammy's was founded with the intent of being a safe haven for misguided gods and goddesses and beings of the like. It is only the past thirty years or so that it became exclusive to orphans."

With that concluded, there was silence. And that silence was broken by Matt's bloody jaws moving to ask three questions. "Why do you so casually call me by either name or alias? If Wammy's is for people like me, what qualifies Mello to be here when he seems so human? And... do you know why my mom and dad left me here?"

...

* * *

**/Uh... Review? And, next chappie, everything will (hopefully) make sense. -And don't flame me for Athena's change in behavior. I'll explain next chapter. (And... again, please don't whine about me crossing Roman and Greek mythology.) *nervous with this chappie*/**


End file.
